The Days of Us
by hitotsu-kokoro
Summary: They've been together for a long time, and though it seems to them as though no time has passed, they continue to count the days. 100 themes on Royai. Three: They have a lot of work to do, but they'll have their moment. Post-Promise Day.
1. 軍人, soldiers

**The Days of Us**

_1. 軍人, soldiers_

They've been together for a long time.

It's more of a statement and less of a sentiment because they really have been together for a long time. It has been years since he first walked into her father's house, years since she enlisted to chase his dreams, years since they were sent to the eastern deserts to kill their own countrymen, and though it seems to them as though no time has passed, they continue to count the days.

He likes to think back to the time when everything was simple, when he was just the apprentice and she was just the master's daughter, and they were just two kids trying to figure out what life was all about. But maybe they were never just kids, because they seemed to have grown up too quickly – they were adults before they left their teens and soldiers before they left the military academy. Sometimes, he wishes he could have given her a better life, the means for a better future, but he knows that she doesn't regret any of it.

"Lieutenant…" he breathes, soft as a whisper.

They are in the office, finishing up paperwork and preparing for a meeting with the higher-ups, and somehow, everyone else has gone out for lunch or for coffee or for a smoke and they're left alone in the quietness of it. But then she hears his voice, her title spoken under his breath, and she turns her gaze to him, an eyebrow raised in curiosity.

"Sir?" It's a question, and he lifts his head to meet the hard stare of her cinnamon-colored eyes.

"Lieutenant," he begins again, "what made you decide to join the military?"

She smiles and lets out a knowing sigh. It's not the first time he has asked her this, and by now she should have an answer prepared, one that she can recite to him verbatim, because maybe then, he'd finally understand. But then, a part of her knows that he never will understand and that he'll keep asking her, just to make some sort of peace for himself.

It's a serious question and she knows it deserves a serious answer, but she likes to tease him when he gets serious about the little things. "Well, if I recall correctly, when we were young, I was always the one to make sure you were fed, bathed, and had clean clothes to wear," she quipped, and her lip quirked up in the slightest of smirks. "I just needed to make sure you had someone to take care of you."

He lets out an amused chuckle and she smiles at the sound. "Well in case I haven't told you lately, you're doing a marvelous job of it."

It takes a moment for the mood to die down and the quietness to return, and she waits through another before speaking up again, her voice soft above the silence.

"I just wanted to make sure kept your promise to change this country for the better, and I wanted to help you do it. Enlisting in the military, becoming a soldier, protecting the people…it's something I still believe in, even after all this time. Of course there are things that shouldn't have happened, things that I wish I could have prevented, but in the grander scheme of things, I don't regret any of it. After all, you were the one who told me that the work of just one soldier can make a difference."

The office is quiet again, but he knows that she can hear his inner satisfaction and the smile reaching his lips. He can hear her smile too.

And of course he knows, without a doubt, that she doesn't regret any of it, but sometimes he just likes to hear her say it.

* * *

_I know that the official theme is "military personnel," but I had found the original Japanese list of these 100 themes and decided to translate them according to my own interpretation. And anyway, "military personnel," just seeeds too vague to me. _

_It's unbettaed, as usual, but I hope you enjoyed it nonetheless. Thanks for reading, and as always, reviews would be much appreciated! Be sure to stay tuned for next time! _


	2. 銃声, gunshot

**The Days of Us**

_2._ _銃声__,_ _gunshot_

There had been so much blood. There had been so much blood and it scares him because he knows that she could have died, that she should have died, but some miracle had kept her alive. And she was going to be okay – the nurse had said so. But only when she is out of her emergency surgery, only when she is resting in her hospital room, only when she is awake – only then will he believe it. For now, he will sit by, a mess of worry and anxiety, and pray to some sort of higher power that she'll be kept, that he won't lose her.

He doesn't remember how it had happened; all he knows is the blood crusted over cold metal, the blood staining midnight blue a dark crimson, the blood seeping onto cold cobblestone. She had been so pale, completely limp and unresponsive in his trembling arms, and he'd just known that she was dying.

He knows that he's going to kill her one day. He may not be the one to shoot the bullet through her heart, choke the air from her lungs, snap the fire at her feet, but he knows that her death will be because of him, because of his life, because of his dream. It is terrible, he thinks, and he hates himself for it, and he wishes that he could just let her go, give her the safe and quiet life that she so rightly deserves, but he knows that she would never settle for any less than what she already has – she cares for him too much, he knows.

She's stubborn, perhaps even more than he is, and she would never let him fight for his dream on his own, without her. She's determined to have him reach his goals, focused on pushing him up until he gets there because it's her dream too, but it scares him – it scares him to think that she'll be gone when finally he gets there.

Maybe he's just selfish, because while he may want to push her away and keep her safe, he can't help but hold her close and try with all his life to protect hers. But he knows that she won't have it either way – he wasn't made to protect her. And after all, she's always been the first to fire her gun in his defense, the first to take a bullet to save _his_ life.

He just hopes that _this_ bullet won't kill her, that she'll just wake up and come back to him, because he doesn't know what he'd do without her.

Her doctor comes out of her room but he doesn't quite notice until he feels his hand on his shoulder, until he is lead into her room and he can finally see her and she's okay and she's not dead and he's just a mess of relief because she's alive. When he walks in, she's only half-lucid, high on painkillers and feverish from the blood transfusion, but she's alive, and that's all her cares about.

She smiles at him with sienna eyes half-lidded, and he can't help but smile back as he takes the seat by her bedside. When he holds her calloused hand in his own, it's warm, and it's still warm when he touches her fingers to his lips. He absentmindedly runs his thumb over the backs of her knuckles and it's strange to think that he's holding her life in his hands, but it's even stranger still to think that hours earlier, he had held her, dying, bleeding, in his arms.

His mouth is open and he wants to tell her how much she means to him, how he can't imagine a life without her by his side; he wants to give her the entire speech, wants to pour all of his feelings out on her, but instead, he finds himself telling her, "Thank you," and for a moment, she looks up at him, confused and asks, "For what?" but he knows that she understands. So he smiles and shakes his head, leaving a kiss on her forehead and whisper in her ear.

"Thank you – for not dying."

It's not funny because she knows that he's not trying to be humorous, and his sentimentalities really _are_ endearing, but she can't stop the snicker that leaves her lips. "You really didn't have to worry so much," she tells him (and her voice is still hoarse but is so full of life), and continues "but you're very welcome."

And now it's his turn to laugh because he knows that she's not trying to be serious, and her smile really _is_ endearing, and he can't stop the chuckle that leaves his lips. And he can't help but laugh at how good it feels to be alive and have her alive and he's just glad that she's okay, because he really couldn't ask for more.

* * *

_When I first began writing this, I wasn't too sure that I'd like it when I finished, but I think it turned out okay, right?_

_A big thank you to _BrookUchiha Daughter of Hermes_ for reviewing the previous chapter! __Thanks for reading, and as always, reviews would be much appreciated! Be sure to stay tuned for next time!_


	3. 戦場, battlefield

**The Days of Us**

_3. 戦場__, battlefield_

It's been days. Not a lot of days (perhaps, only just a few – time seems to fleet by, now that all he sees is darkness), but it has been enough days for the chaos to finally settle and for everything to fall back into its routine. He knows that it has been enough days to send for one Lieutenant Havoc in the east, and enough days for Lieutenant Hawkeye to go in and come back out of surgery and be unconscious for close to some forty odd hours. But now that everything is back on its way to being normal, all he can do is impatiently wait for her to wake up.

It's early evening, the sun has yet to completely set, but he doesn't know that (though he has been promised his sight, he can't yet see) and neither does she (because she's still unconscious, feverish from what is supposed to be the last of her blood transfusions). He's been waiting for hours, and he knows, _has known_, that she should be waking up soon, so he sits by her bedside, his thumb drawing endless circles into her palm — and when she finally, _finally,_ awakens, he is beginning to drift off to sleep himself.

Her eyes slowly flutter open, her vision still bleary with exhaustion after she's awoken. There is a blurred figure by her bedside, donned in hospital garb, his chin tucked into his chest, his hand a tight clasp under hers. It's the colonel, she knows (even in the dim light of the setting sun through her window, she knows) and she wants to tell him to go back to bed and sleep where he won't wake up with a neck ache, but she has yet to find her voice again. A dry rasp leaves her throat when she tries to say his name (not quite his name, but his title; the two have become interchangeable in their years together) but he awakens at the sound of it, his head instantly snapping back up.

"Lieutenant," he breathes in relief. "You're awake...you're okay."

"Colonel..." Her voice is a croak, barely above a whisper. "You should be in bed. You need your rest too."

He squeezes her hand and intertwines their fingers and she can feel his bandages rub against the flesh of her palm. It is a simple gesture, really, but he has never before realized how protective it is; he takes the time to read the callouses on her fingertips like a story — commits them to memory so that he may one day tell them back to her.

A moment, and then, "Hawkeye...Riza...are you really okay?"

She nods. Though he can't see it, she knows he understands it, feels it in the way her fingers tighten around his, and she asks him the same. "And you...are _you_ all right, sir?"

And he chuckles because she really should be worrying about him (because even though he's blind, he isn't bleeding), but he can't blame her for it — the feeling is mutual after all. "Yeah...now that I know you're awake, now that I know that you're _okay..._I'll be just fine."

She can hear the honesty in his words, can see the truthfulness of it in his clouded eyes, and though he really shouldn't be worrying about her either, she's glad — glad that he's all right, glad that she's all right, glad that they're still together even after all this time. They've come a long way, but they're not yet half way there.

"There's still a lot of work to be done," she begins. "Central, and all of Amestris is in disarray, and the grounds outside are a mess that we'll have to clean up. I can't have you slacking off, sir."

He mutters, "Damn Elrics, always leaving us to clean up their messes." But before he knows it, he's laughing, and he's not so sure why (maybe it's because so surreal that they're both still alive, or because they're still together, or maybe he thinks it's funny how well she knows him, he's not quite sure). And it's strange to think that he's still blind because he can somehow read the quizzical look on her features without even seeing her.

"Colonel?"

He clasps his hand on top of hers holding his – her hand held between his wounded palms, her life held between his scars and his demons.

Finally, "I don't think you have anything to worry about. I have a wonderful and _very_ competent lieutenant to take care of me."

And she wants to shake her head at him, chide him for all of his joking, but he just sounds so happy — and she can't (after all, it's a miracle that they're both still alive, still together). But it's all right, because she'll find a plenty of opportunities to rebuke him later on.

"Of course, sir," she says instead. "I wouldn't have it any other way."

And they know that the road ahead of them is long, but for now, they are content to just dwell in the present. The battle is over, and they have finally won.

The battle is finally over. But the real challenge has just begun.

* * *

_This was actually sitting on my computer for a long time. I don't know why it took me so long to post this, but here it is! It's not my favorite, but oh well._

_Shoutouts to _Firaga Productions_, _Minerva Aemilius_, and my anonymous reviewer, _Guest_, for the reviews! Thanks a bunch! And if you enjoyed this chapter, be sure to shoot a review my way!_


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